


Traditional Family

by NathanielCardeu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humour, Multi, Rating May Change, Sexual Content, Tags May Change, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad - Freeform, Twin Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielCardeu/pseuds/NathanielCardeu
Summary: Fred and George need a favour. A *big* favour! Hermione is their best hope, but she's not sure if agreeing to this scheme of theirs is a good idea... Then again, it might end up being the best thing she's ever done.





	1. The Scheme

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrimsonKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonKat/gifts).



> This story is gifted to CrimsonKat, who wanted me to find a Fred bunny, and seemed slightly happy that I found a George bunny as well...
> 
> This will be my first triad fic, my first fic involving the twins in a major role, and (I think, from memory) my first threesome fic. So... lots of firsts!

 

“This is insane, brother-mine!”

 

“But ingenious, don’t you think, oh handsome sibling?”

 

“I’m not sure it’ll work.”

 

“I’m not sure either, but it’ll be a bit of a wheeze, don’t you think?”

 

“‘A bit of a wheeze’?!”

 

“A laugh. A jape. A moment of levity in an otherwise dreary year…”

 

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware of what ‘wheeze’ means! We came up with the name together, remember.”

 

“That’s because we’re so clever!”

 

“We are, aren’t we? I sometimes forget just how terribly smart we are, my good looking partner in crime!”

 

“And that makes me think that it will work, too!”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because we’re so clever, and _she’s_ not bad in the brains department either, so it’s bound to work!”

 

“She _is_ clever, isn’t she!”

 

“That’s what all her Professors said, at least.”

 

“I’m inclined to agree with them too.”

 

“Probably smarter than us.”

 

“A bit!”

 

“Oh certainly individually; combined we’re probably a little smarter!”

 

“Just a little, mind!”

 

“But I’m sure she can follow a script...”

 

“Play her part well.”

 

“I think she’ll be perfect for the role, don’t you?”

 

“Definitely! And it doesn’t hurt that she’s not bad looking either.”

 

“No, certainly not. She’ll compliment your own stunning looks, dear brother!”

 

“Why thank you, though you’re not so bad looking yourself!”

 

The pair shook hands and clapped each other on the back, while the woman on the doorstep in front of them tapped her foot impatiently, her hair plastered to her head by the relentless rain. Water had trickled down the back of her coat and her umbrella had turned itself inside out halfway up Diagon Alley. She was chewing the inside of her cheek, trying to keep herself from hexing, or just punching, one or both of the tall men in front of her.

 

“If you two, oh so clever and handsome, _idiotic_ masters of self congratulation are _quite_ finished,” she spat, her patience finally snapping, “I would appreciate you getting out of the damn doorway so I can get out of the rain!”

 

The twins hurriedly stood aside with a flourish, inviting her over the threshold at last and into the shop. They shut and locked the door behind her as she stalked forward, sweeping her coat off and splashing the pair of them with rainwater. She brushed the soggy mop of hair out of her eyes and fixed the pair of grinning morons with her deadliest stare.

 

“Explain. Quickly! _Without_ the banter!” she finished, as they both opened their mouths.

 

\--------------------------------

 

“You're off your trolley, the pair of you!”

 

Unable to sit still, Hermione Granger stalked around the small office space, five paces one way, five back. Her hair flew out, almost snapping in the air with each spin.

 

“Is that a no?”

 

“It didn't sound like a yes, George.”

 

“But not outright rejection either.”

 

“This is true, I would hazard a guess…”

 

Hermione spun around, her finger jabbing Fred in the chest. “You will hazard my foot up your arse if you say another word, Fred Weasley!”

 

The tall man held up his hands in surrender, before surreptitiously rubbing his chest when she resumed pacing.

 

“Probably best to let her work through it, Fred…” George began but Hermione turned on him, growling.

 

“I have _two_ feet, George! Watch it!”

 

The tall man mimed zipping his mouth closed, his face apologetic, but his eyes danced with mirth. The woman resumed her pacing, angrier now, but the twins could see her working it all through in her mind. They were, all joking and banter aside, a little in awe of the smaller witch's ability to work logically. Though they prided themselves on their talent for jokes and innovation, they knew of no-one who could work out solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems like Hermione could. Their respect for her was unparalleled, so it was no surprise when Fred had suggested her as their best chance of pulling this off.

 

They watched quietly, not wanting to disturb her, nervous that she might turn them down afterall. If they had to go back to the drawing board…

 

“This is insane!” she declared again, echoing George's comment at the door. They resolutely remained quiet, Hermione's pacing never faltering.

 

Finally she stopped, hands on the back of the chair, and the men held their breath, not daring to hope.

 

“And this is _just_ for two days?” she said at last.

 

“Tops!”

 

“No more!”

 

“Definitely!”

 

“Absolute limit!”

 

Her eyes stopped them, their mouths closing with a snap of teeth.

 

“And you'll lose the deal if this man doesn't believe it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It could ruin us!”

 

“Might lose the shop...”

 

“Certainly set us back massively…”

 

“Enough!” she cried, scowling at them. Her knuckles were white on the chair back, and the twins found themselves holding hands under the desk, their own knuckles pale with worry. The witch sighed, deflating slightly and lowering her head to the chair back with a gentle thud. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this…”

 

The twins didn’t give her a chance to finish, surging to their feet with a whoop of excitement, hugging each other and laughing with delight. They parted and ran around the desk to embrace Hermione, almost crushing her between them in their enthusiasm. She felt a momentary twinge of something indefinable as they hugged her. The wild thought, ‘twin-sandwich’, fluttered through her mind, and she couldn’t stop the slight whimper that burst from her throat; George behind her, his chest pressed against her shoulders; Fred in front, his firm pecs mashed against her cheek.

 

After a moment of shock she wriggled out of their embrace, pushing them away. Two spots of colour burned brightly on her cheeks as she straightened her rumpled blouse. She cleared her throat, avoiding their eyes as they smiled at her.

 

“So…?”

 

“Was that a…?

 

Hermione tried to glare at them, but their enthusiasm was so great that she couldn’t hold the expression. A small smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “You’re both mental, you know this, right?”

 

“Absolutely!” they declared.

 

“Fine. It's a yes.” She shook her head and sighed as the two high fived each other. _What am I getting myself into?_

 

“You won't regret this, Hermione! I promise you!”

 

“I had better not, Fred, or you will be the first to know about it! This was your idea, after all.”

 

“Don't worry, love, this will all go brilliantly!” George chimed in, beaming.

 

“Yes, well,” Hermione said, her cheeks heating slightly at the familiar term. “We had best start planning things then. When is he arriving?”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“WHAT!?” Hermione yelled. “What do you mean, ‘tomorrow’?”

 

“Day after today?”

 

“Starts just after midnight.”

 

She growled, stalking towards them forcing them to back away from her. “I know what tomorrow _means_ , you bloody fools! _Why_ is it tomorrow? Why are you only just inviting me into this damn harebrained scheme of yours at the last bloody minute?”

 

“Well,” said Fred, shuffling his feet with embarrassment.

 

“We didn't know if you'd be up for it, at first! Were kinda scared to ask, if I'm honest.”

 

“Then he had a cancellation and brought the date forward. Sent a man to confirm, so we couldn't delay!”

 

“He wanted to take an answer back straight away… and I was about to tell him we weren't ready, because he was looking forward to meeting me and my family… you know, wife and such like…”

 

“Then I figured we might lose the deal if we seemed flakey, so I said that George and his wife would be delighted to receive him tomorrow!”

 

“Bit of a shock for me too, to tell you the truth.”

 

“Sorry, George.”

 

“No harm done, old chap!”

 

“So we had to come up with a wife for George pretty sharpish, and well… here you are!”

 

“Tadaaa!” said George, nervously, waving his hands.

 

Hermione just stared at them for a moment, trying to comprehend the level of stupidity in these two. No, she allowed, it wasn't stupidity at all. They were an incredibly talented, funny, and generally likeable pair… they were just too enthusiastic for their own good. And maybe a little bit stupid.

 

“Don't worry, Hermione,” said George, putting an arm around her shoulder and hugging her close. “We can wing it!”

 

“I can't just ‘ _wing it’_ , my dear _husband_ ,” she said snippily, “I hate winging things!” She pushed away from him and resumed pacing. “I need to know all about our marriage, how we met, the proposal, holidays, plans for the future, how many children we want…”

 

“Steady on, sweetheart, we only just got married tonight!”

  
“This is not funny, George, and if you are not going to take it at least a little bit seriously, I am out of here, and _Fred_ can pretend to be your damn wife!”


	2. The Wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it would appear that this story idea is insanely popular... currently garnering more kudos and subscriptions in 24-48 hours than *any* other story I've ever written... So, thank you, I hope I don't let you down!
> 
> This little chapter is dedicated to Imtrouble (who demanded this additional pairing) and to Fred (not Weasley!) who is possibly going to read this at some point, and is also partial to this pairing. Ladies... enjoy!

“They want you to do WHAT?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend and sighed, stuffing clothes into a suitcase. “I know!”

 

“Are they mental?” Harry said, slumping back in his chair.

 

“That observation came up in conversation, yes.” Hermione smiled as Harry shook his head in disbelief. She held up two tops, debating which to take, before putting both in the case. It's not like she didn't have the space!

 

“So they need you to pretend to be George's wife, to impress this investor from overseas?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And they couldn't get anyone else to do this?”

 

Hermione gave a small laugh. “They didn't even _ask_ anyone else! Didn't give themselves enough time!”

 

“For successful business men, they certainly make some scatterbrained decisions, don't they? And you agreed to this?”

 

She sighed and nodded. “I'm regretting it already, Harry! The man is coming by Portkey later today, I know _nothing_ about him, and the twins hadn't even considered that he will probably ask questions about mine and George's relationship, how we got together, how he proposed… None of it!”

 

“Are you absolutely sure that this isn't some wild scheme to… I don't know…” Harry waved his hands, unsure how to say it.

 

“What?” Hermione frowned, wondering where he was going with this.

 

“Well, you know what they're like…”

 

“What my dear boyfriend is trying not to say,” said a sardonic voice from the next room, “are you sure they aren't just trying to get you into a twin sandwich?”

 

Hermione gave a cough as her crazy thought from last night was voiced. Her cheeks heated and she could feel the prickle of embarrassment chase its way up her neck.

 

She looked at Harry, who shrugged. “I was kinda thinking that, yes.”

 

“I happen to know that Fred and George think highly of you,” came the voice again, coming closer. “I, for one, wouldn't complain about being the meat in between those two slices of bread.”

 

Harry glared over his shoulder at the doorway, where his partner lounged, indolently, a smirk on those beautifully kissable lips. “Charming!”

 

“Hey! I'm not saying anything that all three of us aren't already thinking. Look at her face! I bet that was _her_ first thought as well.”

 

Hermione cleared her throat and looked at the figure in the doorway, fixing those steel eyes with her best glare. “Well, thank you for your crude observation, but I did no such thing!”

 

Harry gave a laugh. “I think you might be telling us a tiny white lie there, Hermione. You're as red as the Gryffindor flag!”

 

Harry's partner sauntered into the room, placing his hand on his lover's shoulder. “What do you reckon, Harry? You think she can play the dutiful little wife and not get too caught up in the role?”

 

Harry sucked dramatically on his teeth, like a contractor giving an estimate. “I think she might struggle, Draco. I really think she might end up with at least one of them by the time this is over.”

 

“I say both,” Malfoy said with a laugh, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair and giving it a tug.

 

“And I say, you can take your opinions and shove them…”

 

“Woah! Steady, Granger!” Malfoy said with a sneer. “Don't be mad! Tell you what; you get through this stupid plan of theirs without getting at least a little bit frisky with a Weasley, and we'll take you out to dinner at that high class restaurant you're always banging on about. Our treat.”

 

“I only keep ‘banging on’ about it, because they’re one of the only wizarding restaurants that still only cater to purebloods, and it’s a terrible practice!”

 

“But you still want to go there…”

 

“It just looks so fancy!” she moaned. “None of my previous boyfriends would take me there! How can I truly hate it, if I can’t say I’ve seen it first hand!?”

 

“Now _that_ is borderline pathetic,” Draco said, shaking his head. “But there is a genuine reason you haven’t been there yet, Granger, and it’s not _just_ your blood.”

 

“Oh, do tell!”

 

“You have a taste for cheap men.”

 

Harry winced as Hermione gasped loudly. “I. DO. NOT!”

 

Draco sneered and held up a fist, flicking his fingers out, one by one. “Ron Weasley, Cormac McLaggen--what the hell you were thinking, going back _there_ again after that debacle at the Slug Club party, I have no idea--Anthony Goldstein? I mean, come on!”

 

“He was nice…  Mostly.”

 

Draco stared at her like she had just spat on his perfectly shined shoes. “Nice. Mostly.”

 

“Okay, well maybe he had a bit of an attitude…”

 

“The man was an arrogant, uppity, holier than thou twat!”

 

“Pot, kettle?” Hermione asked with a tight grin.

 

“Hey,” admonished Harry, “don't be mean! Draco has made great improvements in that department over the last few years!”

 

“Thank you,” Draco said, his expression dark and angry.

 

“Once we managed to get the stick out of his arse, that is…”

 

Hermione sniggered at that and Draco's shocked and offended expression as he glared at his partner.

 

“Anyway!” he said loudly, pulling Harry's hair hard enough to make the man's eyes water. “Goldstein, as well as being a snob, was tighter than a duck’s arse! And that's watertight!”

 

“Okay, well…” Hermione tried to interrupt but Malfoy was back on a roll.

 

“Then there was that Muggle, Steve... Stuart…”

 

“Stefan,” Harry murmured.

 

“Yeah, older guy, ponytail, dangly earring… kinda hot in a going-grey-in-my-thirties kinda way.”

 

“He seemed nice enough,” Harry said with a smile.

 

“But still… Muggle!” Draco said with a sneer.

 

“Be nice, lover,” Harry said, patting Malfoy's hip gently.

 

“I'm just saying, they were all cheap and never would have taken you to a fancy place like that! And Stefan wouldn't have been able to, even if he'd wanted to! Which, based on how often he actually put his hand in his pocket, he didn't! Face it, Princess, we're your best hope of going, because your taste in men is lousy!”

 

Hermione chewed on this for a moment before thrusting her hand out. “Fine! Shake on it. I'll show you the twins’ intentions are honourable, and that I can control myself in their presence!”

 

Draco smirked and shook her hand. “We'll see.”

 

“Yes, we will!” Hermione declared. “Now, if you don't mind, I have to get packed and move in with the twins before the investor arrives.”

 

“We'll leave you to it then,” Harry said standing and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “We're here if you need help with those two, remember.”

 

“Thank you, Harry, but I'm sure I'll be fine.”

 

Draco snorted as he saw her cheeks colour slightly. “Easiest bet I've ever made,” he declared.

 

After the pair of them had left Hermione sat down on the bed and grabbed a notepad and pen. Quickly she began jotting down some notes, things to discuss with George when she got to the shop. She still couldn't believe they had nothing planned for this grand scheme of theirs! They truly were irresponsible!

 

She quickly decided that they were planning a sensibly sized family, two children at least, and maybe more if their busy lives allowed. She loved children and had always wanted to be a mother, and her mother-in-law, Molly, was a source of great inspiration. It wasn't a complete lie; she certainly wanted children one day, but two was a pretty hard limit right now, and she wasn't all that enamoured with Molly Weasley's style of parenting. The investor didn't need to know that though, and it would sound good for her to have a good traditional family wish. One of the reasons for this crazy plan was that the investor only wanted to deal with people who had good traditional values when it came to family.

 

She and George had met at school, obviously, but they hadn't really fallen for each other until a few years after the war had finished. It was a chance meeting in Diagon Alley, where they both ended up in Mrs Filbert's shop, looking for the same kind of cooking pot, called a tagine. She loved baking and cooking (also a slight fabrication) and so was desperate for this new dish in order to try out a wonderful recipe her friend Luna had told her about after her trip to Morocco. George happened to be looking for one too, for the joke shop, as he thought the shape would be a perfect model for a new product he had thought of. It was so funny because they both reached for the last one and their hands touched. It was like electricity! They had seen each other many times over the years, but for that moment it was like they had never met, and their eyes had been opened for the first time.

 

They dated for several months, and quickly found that their dreams and desires for the future and for family aligned perfectly.

 

George proposed out of the blue one day; they were on holiday in New York, strolling through Central Park, when he stopped by this fountain. Unbeknownst to her, he had organised this group of musicians to play this song she loved; a Muggle singer who is everywhere right now, truly incredible voice! Then George starts singing this song about how he'd meet the perfect woman, the one who shared his hopes and dreams. He got down on one knee and produced this beautiful ring, and asked her to be his forever.

 

She read through the little story quickly, committing it to memory, and nodded with satisfaction. It was a good start, suitably romantic, and ticked enough of the ‘traditional family’ boxes. She could hopefully get them through the first encounter, so she could plan the rest with the twins properly!

 

She pulled two rings from her jewellery box and quickly transfigured them into a beautiful, but tasteful, engagement ring, and a more simple wedding band. She slipped them both on her left hand and stared at them for a moment. “With this ring, I me wed,” she said with a small, sad smile. She really did want to get married one day, and not just pretend! She hoped that George had thought to sort a wedding band of his own.

 

Grabbing her bag and her wand, she glanced around her little flat, making sure all was in order, before Disapparating.


	3. Plans and First Encounters with the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione arrives at the shop, where things rapidly go from bad to worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am unlikely to be able to finish chapter 4 off over the Christmas period, what with family visits and whatnot, there will be a break before it is posted.
> 
> So I'll take this opportunity to say Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year x

“Hermione! Quickly, in here!”

 

The brunette stared round in surprise as she entered the busy joke shop. Fred was beckoning her frantically from under the stairs and she quickly crossed the floor to him. “What's wrong…?”

 

The tall man grabbed her arm and dragged her into the cupboard nearby.

 

“Fred, what are you doing!?”

 

“No time! He's here already! By the way, his name is Christoph Pichler, he's Austrian, speaks English, but is  _ very _ formal! George is meeting with him in the office, and you need to put this on because we’re all going to lunch in an hour!”

 

“What…?” Hermione gasped as the redhead plopped a dark coloured mop of hair on her head. The enchanted wig immediately began to gather her own hair up, tucking it neatly underneath, before straightening itself out and then tying itself in a messy bun on top of her head. The witch winced as her hair was pulled at the roots, the wig settling into place fully, before shifting through various colours until it decided on a dirty blonde. “Fred!”

 

The man ignored her, already rummaging through a chest at his feet, muttering under his breath.

 

“Talk to me, Fred!”

 

“Okay, so your name is Lucy! You used to be Lucy Thorneside, but obviously it's now Weasley!”

 

Her heart gave a dull thud in her chest, stomach clenching in pain. Her jaw hung open in shock, even more surprised when Fred tipped the contents of a small bottle into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively, almost gagging on the bittersweet potion. “What was that!?”

 

“Eye colour. Don’t worry, fully tested, perfectly safe!”

 

“What do you  _ mean _ my ‘name is Lucy Thorneside’? Why aren't I Hermione!?” Her head was spinning and she could feel the tears threatening. It wasn’t the dramatic change in plans; though that was certainly frustrating, it was perfectly in line with what she expected when dealing with these two. It was the  _ name _ ! Of all the names they could have put together...

 

“No no no, you can't be  _ you _ , because  _ he _ wants to meet  _ you _ , and he knows who  _ you _ are!”

 

“Me,  _ who _ ?”

 

“Hermione!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“No,” Fred flustered, waving his hands frantically, “Pichler wants to meet Hermione Granger while he's in town, and he knows she's not dating George! Obviously you can't be not dating George  _ and _ married to George, so as George’s wife we have to give you a new identity!”

 

Hermione stared at Fred as he held a dress out for her to put on. It was bright blue, with white piping along the edges, and looked like it would only come to her thighs. “No.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“‘Lucy Thorneside’? Lucy  _ fucking _ Thorneside!?  _ Really _ !?… No, nevermind!” She punched his chest in frustration, hurting her hand, not even feeling better at the look of surprise and pain on his face. If anything it made her feel worse, because he clearly had no clue! “Gods, you two make me  _ so _ mad! I had part of it figured out! I'd worked out how George and I got together, how he proposed...”

 

“And I'm sure it was lovely, but I'm sorry, Lucy, you're gonna have to wing it!” She just glared at him, and he smiled nervously and shrugged.

 

Drawing a shaky breath she said, “I'm going to kill you. Both of you. Slowly!”

 

“It’ll be fine! Hopefully we…” He broke off, noticing the tears in Hermione’s eyes, the slight dimpling of her chin as it trembled. “Hermione… are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned. He reached out a hand, surprised when she pulled away, hugging herself tightly. “Hey, what’s up? Look, I know you hate flying by the seat of your pants, but Georgie and I are professionals at that sort of thing. We’ll be okay, I promise!”

 

The witch closed her eyes tightly, the tears spilling down her cheeks and she gave a strangled noise that was both a sob and a laugh.

 

“Come on, love,” Fred said, opening his arms to her, “bring it in. Let's hug it out.”

 

Without a word Hermione dropped her bag, snatched the dress out of Fred’s hand, and waved her wand over it. The dress shifted and changed, lengthening as well as changing colour. “Tell Herr Pichler, and my dear husband, that I’ll be with them shortly,” she said quietly, concentrating on the garment.

 

“Hermione…”

 

“Get out, Fred. I need to change.”

 

Her voice was quiet but carried an edge to it that Fred had learned not to mess with. “I’ll be outside then,” he said quietly, still perplexed, shuffling past her and opening the door.

 

She spoke again, the pain in her heart making her voice tremble slightly. “So, where does Lucy come from? Hogwarts educated or what?”

 

“Your choice, we haven’t discussed that yet.”

 

“Good. At least I don’t have to put on an accent,” she said, shoving the tall man fully out of the cupboard and slamming the door.

 

The lock engaged with a loud snap, and Fred looked at the door in confusion for a moment. “Why would she need to put on an accent?” he muttered to himself, frowning.

 

His expression changed abruptly; realisation, horror, sorrow, guilt. These emotions flashed across his face in rapid succession and he moved as if to rejoin her. He stopped himself, knowing that she was changing, and that the last thing she needed was him bursting in on her half naked. He rested his hands on his head, tugging his hair in frustration, feeling terrible at this ridiculous balls up.

 

“Oh Merlin, no! How could the pair of us have been so  _ stupid _ !?” The name had just come to them in a flash, but they had no idea where from. Well,  _ now _ he knew… He and George would have to make it up to her… somehow!

 

\--------------------------------

 

“Herr Pichler?”

 

“Ahh, Frau Weasley! Guten Tag!”

 

The tall, stocky man in the chair opposite George, stood and turned to greet the young lady who had entered. He was clean shaven with neatly styled, jet black hair, the corners of his dark eyes crinkled with fine lines. His black suit was immaculate, with a pair of emerald cufflinks glinting in the light.

 

George looked across with a smile which turned to a gape when he saw her. His ‘wife’ was clad in a simple dress, blonde hair hanging loose about her bare shoulders, with two braids running from her temples to the back of her head, bound by a simple black ribbon. Her makeup was elegant and understated, emphasising the piercing blue eyes, a beautiful, gold necklace encircling her throat. The dress was burgundy, long enough to reach just beneath her knees, and accented her figure very well. A delicate, white flower decorated her hip with a small string of sparkling stones fanning out across the skirt, making the flower look like a small comet. She held a small clutch bag in her left hand and George noticed the sparkle of the rings on her finger, mentally kicking himself. She stepped across the room, her high heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. Her right hand was extended in greeting, and a bright smile lit up her face. She looked… breathtaking.

 

“A pleasure to meet you!” she said, as she shook his hand warmly. “George has been very excited about this opportunity. In fact, it has been our main topic of conversation for some time now.”

 

Hermione--Lucy!--stepped over to George, still sitting stunned, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. His nose was filled with her perfume and he felt his heart give a small stutter.

 

“Close your mouth please, darling. We are not a codfish,” she said, patting him on the cheek.

 

“Ah, Mary Poppins, ja? Very good, Frau Weasley. Your husband does indeed look a little surprised. He has, I'm afraid, done you a disservice; you are more beautiful than his words had given you credit for!”

 

Lucy blushed prettily, and inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Herr Pichler. Poetry is not necessarily my husband's forte, though he is very imaginative when it comes to his business.”

 

“Indeed! I have been quite impressed with what I have seen so far! I look forward to continuing our discussions over lunch. You will be joining us, ja?”

 

“Of course, Herr Pichler, I would be delighted.”

 

“Ausgezeichnet! Well, I shall head back to my hotel now to freshen up.”

 

George gave himself a shake and jumped up, extending his hand to the man and shaking it firmly. “We will have a car come round to collect you in an hour, Herr Pichler.”

 

“Danke, Herr Weasley. You are sure there is no chance of Herr Weasley’s  Freundin, Frau Granger,  joining us today? I had hoped to make her acquaintance while I am in town.”

 

George heard the strangled choking sound at his side and hastily stepped around the desk to guide the tall man out of the office. Fred was stood at the door, staring past his brother’s shoulder in terror at whatever expression ‘Lucy’ had on her face; George didn't want to look. “Unfortunately not, Herr Pichler. She is a very busy woman at the moment, but I’m sure she will join us at some point soon!”

 

“Gut! Well, auf wiedersehen, Herr Weasley, Frau Weasley.” He nodded cordially before stepping out and allowing Fred to guide him through the chaos of the shop.

 

George tried to keep the door open so there could be witnesses, keeping his gaze turned outwards, desperately hoping for a customer to walk by. He swallowed nervously as the slow and steady footsteps came across the room. A bare arm reached into his line of sight, and softly pulled the door closed. The click sounded like a firecracker going off in the sudden silence, as a strange buzzing sound filled George’s ears.

 

He turned towards her with his best smile. “Lucy, my darling, let me explain…”

 

Her slap turned his head and staggered him, his hand going to his cheek in shock. Despite the power of the hit she looked unruffled as she stood there, wand in hand, stunningly blue eyes filled with a fire that both excited and terrified him. “Please, dear husband, explain.”

 

“Well… I, uh… maybe we should wait for Fred to come back…”

 

“No, no. Please. Go on!” she said with a frosty smile. “I am not fluent in German, so I must confess that it took me a moment to fully comprehend the mistake that poor Herr Pichler made just now.” She stepped towards George slowly, the man finding his back against the wall of the suddenly too small office. “You see, I heard him say ‘Frau Granger’, which would be our dear, family friend, Hermione. I know, from my darling brother-in-law, that Herr Pichler is excited to meet her, Heroine of the War and all that. That will be easy enough to arrange; she’s a busy lady, as you said, but I’m sure she would happily make herself available to such a polite and distinguished gentleman.”

 

“Well, that’s good…”

 

“However,” she growled, “I could not help but also hear my  _ dearest _ brother-in-law’s name used a fraction of a second before that… with an  _ interesting _ word in between!”

 

Her wand was lifted and placed under George’s chin, dimpling the skin slightly. “Hermione...” he murmured, swallowing nervously.

 

“It’s  _ Lucy _ , darling, please keep up! Do  _ you _ recall that  _ interesting _ word, love of my life?” she asked with a small, hard laugh. “ _ I  _ thought it was ‘ Freundin’, but then I realised that that  _ couldn’t _ be correct!”

 

“Um, I…”

 

“Because, although I’m not fluent in German, as I said, I’m _fairly_ sure that he said ‘Freundin’. Now, although I’m sure it _can_ mean female friend, it was strange that he would refer to Hermione as your _brother’s_ friend, and not just say _your_ friend.”

 

“Well… haha! I, uh...”

 

“ _ I _ got the feeling that he was implying my dear friend, Hermione, was off the dating market once more! It surprised me because I’m  _ sure _ she would have said something to me, if that was the case!”

 

“I really couldn’t....”

 

Her voice hardened, beginning to get louder. “In fact, for a wild,  _ crazy _ moment, I got the feeling he was saying that Hermione Granger was Fred Weasley’s  _ girlfriend _ ! That would  _ definitely _ have been the subject of  _ intense _ discussion between us, because it would have made Hermione and I practically sisters!”

 

The smaller witch was now pressed against him, hand gripping his shirt front as she stood on tiptoe. While the feel of her against him was surprisingly pleasant, the barely restrained fury in her voice was anything but!

 

“I’m sure there’s just been a misunderstanding… something lost in translation…” George gasped desperately, the back of his head pressed against the wall of the office, the point of her wand digging into his flesh and restricting his breathing slightly. 

  
“I sincerely hope so,  _ my love _ ,” she shouted, her voice continuing to climb until it was almost a shriek, “because I have it on good authority that Hermione Granger will find many gruesome and painful ways to make you, and your idiotic brother, pay for this, IF IT TURNS OUT TO BE TRUE!”


	4. Not so much a wager, as a challenge...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where things get... interesting... (if they weren't already) ;)

“I must say, Frau Weasley, you are a brave woman to have taken on such an inventor as Herr Wesley! I suppose his ideas get a little out of control sometimes, ja?”

 

Herr Pichler was enthusiastic and animated at lunch, not shy about ordering drinks for everyone and insisting that they enjoy themselves. Away from the formality of the office he seemed almost a different person, and had been so excited by what he had seen, that he was almost ready to sign on the dotted line already.

 

“He can be a handful, at times, that is certain, Herr Pichler, but it is not for naught that he and Fred have one of the most successful businesses on Diagon Alley!”

 

“Please, call me Cristoph! I think that we can dispense with a little of the formality now.”

 

“Thank you, Christoph, I appreciate the gesture.”

 

“It is nothing!”

 

“And I would like it if you would call me Lucy.”

 

“So it shall be, Lucy.” He lifted his glass, his eyes finding hers and holding them. “To new ventures!”

 

Lucy lifted her own and tapped them together, meeting his eyes with a smile, a slight blush on her cheeks at the man’s frank gaze. “Zum wohl! ”

 

\--------------------------------

 

George stood at the bar, as his brother laughed and joked with the waiter who was preparing their drinks. The twins came to this little place for business lunches, as they did a fantastic spread and, in the evenings, usually put on some kind of entertainment. The tall man tried to keep his expression neutral as he looked across the room to see her throw back her head and laugh at whatever Herr Pichler had just said. The two of them seemed to be getting along famously!

 

He had to stamp down on a strange prickle of annoyance at the sight; he was sure that Hermione… no, Lucy! Gods, he had to get better at that! _Lucy_ was simply playing her part, and what looked like flirting to him, was actually just her doing her best to put the formal man at ease, being so far from home. It couldn’t be easy… Did she just touch his hand!?

 

Fred turned to look as he became aware of George muttering under his breath, his face like thunder. “Something troubling you, brother? You appear… vexed.”

 

“Does it seem to you, my knowledgeable sibling, that my darling wife is taking to Herr Pichler a little too… well?”

 

Fred glanced at the laughing pair at the table and back to his brother. “You remember, of course, that ‘Lucy’ is not actually your wife, oh secretly single one?”

 

“Of course, and she plays the role well, and yet appears also to be playing the part of ‘woman on date with fancy businessman’”

 

“Jealous, George?” Fred said, with a smirk.

 

“To be honest, Fred… a bit, yes.”

 

“She does look incredibly fetching.”

 

“She's always been a good looking woman. If you could have seen that look in her eyes earlier…”

 

“It actually sounded terrifying, old boy!”

 

“Well, you know I’ve more than liked Hermione for a while now…”

 

“As have I. Since that McLaggen tool basically treated her like crap, wasn’t it?”

 

“The very same! Dickhead!”

 

“Couldn’t agree more.”

 

“And seeing that fire in her eyes, earlier today? I genuinely believe, if she had demanded, I’d have dropped to my knees and licked her boots!”

 

“Yes, well, I think any chance of either of us testing the waters romantically with our dear friend, the possibility of which we have discussed on occasion while in our cups, may have been irrevocably scuttled thanks to our rather dramatic cock ups, earlier today.”

 

“As mistakes go, they _were_ rather spectacular.”

 

“And not in our usual, land on our feet, walk away laughing manner.”

 

“She’s punishing us for it, and I do think this is only the beginning!”

 

“Do you think she would go as far as to scupper the deal?”

 

“No, Fred. While she _is_ angry…”

 

“ _So_ angry!”

 

“... she is not the sort to do something that would have dramatically far reaching effects out of spite.”

 

“First time for everything, George, old chum.”

 

“Do you think so little of her?”

 

“Don’t get defensive, brother dearest! We’ve put her in the awful position of giving her a name that, no doubt, causes her pain each time it is uttered, as well as the knowledge that she will, potentially, have to juggle roles tomorrow.”

 

“It sounds like fun.”

 

“For us.”

 

“And probably a personal hell for her!”

 

“Exactly. While I don't think Hermione would deliberately do something that would ruin us, she will certainly make us suffer for our stupidity.”

 

George sighed, running his hand through his hair. “We've got to make it up to her, somehow. I feel awful!”

 

“What the hell made you tell Pichler that Hermione and I were dating?”

 

“ _He_ asked me if it was true! He'd heard a rumour about it, apparently. Have you been flirting with her, without my knowledge?”

 

Fred stared at George, attempting for an offended expression, but it was clear that his brother wasn't buying it. “Fine! I may have… spoke in a manner that was slightly warmer than normal, on occasion.”

 

“Well, I don't think she picked up on it.”

 

“Though if she did, she dismissed it. Not sure which is worse.”

 

“Maybe we’re losing our touch when it comes to flirting.”

 

“Distinct possibility, unfortunately. I know that _I_ can’t tell if I’m flirting or joking these days!”

 

“Maybe we should be a bit more obvious about it?”

 

“What? Just _tell_ someone exactly how you feel? Without having the safety net of wit to fall back on?”

 

“Scary thought isn’t it?”

 

“More than scary…”

 

“I think the three of us need to have a serious talk tonight, when Pichler is safe and snug in his hotel!”

 

“Why ‘three’? _I’ll_ be talking to Hermione. _You_ can discuss your feelings with another young, unsuspecting lady. Especially as I’ve already made inroads with young Miss Granger.”

 

“I hardly consider attempting, and failing, to flirt making inroads, dear brother. I have, at least, had her pressed against me…”

 

“About to hex your face off!”

 

“Still, further than you appear to have gotten, Mr Confirmed Bachelor for Life!”

 

“I could happily abandon the bachelor life for her.”

 

“As could I.”

 

They looked across the room at the subject of their discussion. She looked up as Herr Pichler stood and gave a small bow to her. The man walked in the direction of the toilets and the twins saw her eyes follow him, a small smile on her lips. Both felt the stab of jealousy then.

 

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

 

“Has any Weasley done this without the lady at least being interested, or aware even?

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

“We need someone to adjudicate. Percy?”

 

“Probably best.”

 

“So…?”

 

“Yup…”

 

Fred and George looked at each other, a small frown on their faces, searching the other for weakness, uncertainty. “You’re on!” they said together, the gauntlet thrown down.

 

They glanced at Hermione, who happened to be staring in their direction. She quirked an eyebrow at them, clearly having seen their animated discussion. With smiles on their faces the twins casually walked over with the drinks the barman had prepared some time ago.

 

“What are you two up to?” she asked with a frown.

 

“Who?”

 

“Us?”

 

“Are you Snape, all of a sudden?”

 

“Up to something…” Fred intoned slowly, looking down his nose at her.

 

She sneered at that and yanked them both down into their seats either side of her. “If you’re planning any other _wonderful_ surprises for me, tell me now! I am finding your idea of surprises to be more than a little stressful!”

 

“Yeah, about that, Hermi…”

 

“ _Lucy_!” she hissed, seeing Herr Pichler making his way back towards the table.

 

“Merlin’s beard, why is that so hard for me?”

 

“I don’t know, George, but as my _husband_ I would appreciate you not getting my name wrong!”

 

He reached out to capture her hand, bringing it to his lips as he gazed into her eyes. “I am sorry, dear heart. You know I’ve only ever wanted to be the best husband to you that I can be, even through my light hearted teasing.”

 

Hermione’s lips quirked in a slightly confused smile at the sensation of his lips on the back of her hand, a blush prickling across her skin, her voice strained and breathy. “Not a problem, George… just, um… let’s not let it become a problem…”

 

She gave a sudden squeak of shock as he caressed her cheek, gently brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. He leant closer, his hand behind her head, gentle but firm, and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I would never let anything come between us, Lucy, my lover,” he said quietly, his cheek against hers, his amused eyes fixed on Fred’s scowling face behind her.

 

“Tomorrow,” the elder twin mouthed, and George grimaced slightly; tomorrow, Lucy would become Hermione again, and it would be Fred’s turn. He had until the end of today to make a lasting impression on the lady before that happened!


	5. The Lioness' Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I would like to apologise for leaving you guys hanging for a year (a whole year!? good lord...).  
> Here is chapter 5 at last. Now that the muse is back I am hopefully going to be able to get chapter 6 out a LOT quicker than a year!
> 
> I will confess, however, that I still have little idea about where I'm going with this tale, and I have only a few scenes planned out in my head. All the same, let's find out what happens together! That'll be fun, right?
> 
> After such a long wait, I sincerely hope that this chapter was even remotely worth waiting for...

 

“This is a most impressive facility, Herr Weasley. I am pleased to see your dreams of expanding overseas have a good basis!”

 

“Thank you, Herr Pichler,” said George, patting one of the large racks next to him, packed with boxes. “This warehouse is the first we have obtained locally. We've been working hard to balance production and sales so we don't expand too fast, but we feel we're ready to take Weasley Wizard Wheezes further than just the UK market.”

 

“We have already had a number of students from Beauxbatons visit us during the last few summers,” chimed in Fred, “and they have taken samples, and more importantly word of our products back to the school.”

 

“Yes, I believe your Schwägerin was a student there, was she not?”

 

The men looked blankly at him for a moment, the German word throwing them.

 

“Darling,” Hermione said, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face, “our new friend is referring to Fleur…”

 

“Ah, I see!”

 

“Schwägerin, sister-in-law!” Fred said in understanding.

 

“Yes, makes sense,” said George.

 

“Indeed,” continued Fred, “Miss Delacour married Bill, our eldest brother. She was a student at Beauxbatons and represented the school at the last Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

 

“Ja, a fine witch by all accounts.”

 

“Lovely lady, and luckily for us, keeps in contact with her former schoolmates and has done a wonderful job of getting word of our products overseas.”

 

“We've invested a lot of time in strengthening those ties to France, and hopefully further afield in Europe and beyond,” added George.

 

“My interest is certainly piqued!” Herr Pichler said with a smile.

 

The four wandered through the small warehouse, between the stacks of boxes and metal tracks that held them. Hermione was impressed despite her continued annoyance at the twins: whatever their faults it was impossible not to be slightly awed by the planning they had done for their international expansion. Just how they were going to run two outlets, in two different countries, was another matter. She was fairly sure they hadn't thought that far ahead yet! If the last day had taught her anything it was that they were ideas men, but the logistics of how to pull it off… Frankly, she was surprised their business had done so well sometimes!

 

George dropped back a few steps to walk with her, and Hermione noticed Fred cast a slightly annoyed glance at his brother, but it was covered so quickly with a laugh that Hermione almost thought she had imagined it. Almost. If it had been the only time she had seen its like since they had left the restaurant she might have been more inclined to chalk it up to her imagination...

 

“So?” said George quietly, a small smile on his face.

 

“I'm almost impressed, George. You and Fred have certainly put a lot of thought into this expansion.”

 

“It's often kept us up at night! Working out where to put the shop, how to run it, whether we can handle two shops at once, or if we'd need to hire more staff…”

 

“I'd have thought that last one would have been obvious, given the difficulty with Portkeys and travelling to France on a whim…”

 

“Well, of course, we realised we couldn't be in two places at once, not without splitting up. The idea is there to manage a shop each, meet up regularly to discuss progress, and so on.”

 

“But, in reality, you don't think you'd be as successful working one without the other?”

 

“Exactly,” George said, putting an arm around her shoulders and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. “You are so insightful it's scary sometimes!”

 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat, but it was not with embarrassment, or even desire: there was a glint in George’s eyes, which were not on her, but on Fred. She knew at that moment what the boys were up to, what they were trying to do with her!

 

She was furious they had put her in this position, fuming that they would use that as a way of getting closer to her, possibly with the misguided idea that this would allow them to deepen their individual relationship with her--was it just some weird sibling competition, or was there an element of seriousness to it?

 

_ That _ was the reason why Pichler thought that she and Fred were dating, she realised! It was no good if she was simply play-acting as George’s wife, that didn’t give Fred the opportunity to try and schmooze his way into her knickers! He had lied to Pichler about it so she would have to be loving with him  _ and _ George!

 

_ I am going to kill them _ , she seethed, her face outwardly fixed in a smile.

 

George glanced at her, doing a double take. “Are… you okay? You seem…”

 

“I’m fine, darling,” she hissed, realising it was worse than that: she had to admit that Malfoy had been right!

 

Fred and Christoph turned a corner up ahead and George, foolishly, tried to put an arm around her waist, misjudged it slightly and cupped her buttock instead.

 

Her eyes opened wide, blazing with fury, stifling the scream that threatened to burst from her. With two fistfuls of George’s shirt, she slammed him against the stack of crates beside them, hearing his head connect hard.

 

George saw stars, his head spinning and buzzing from the impact. She was speaking to him in that low voice she used when she was extremely angry but he couldn’t concentrate on the words… she had no idea how sexy it sounded…

 

_ Not a good idea to say that out loud, Georgie, old chap…  Best keep that thought in your head unless you want to lose an ear! _

 

“What do you mean, I ‘sound sexy’?!” she growled then, pulling his face close, her knee disturbingly close to his crotch.

 

_ Oh shit... _

 

“You compete with your brother to try and bed me, you grab my arse when the opportunity presents itself... You two keep pushing your luck,” she said. “You can’t help yourselves, can you? It’s like you have some kind of death wish, or...”

 

She broke off abruptly, hearing Fred and Christoph coming closer again. Rolling her eyes, she pulled George closer, pressing their lips together and sinking into his arms. A hand stroked and massaged the base of her neck, the other pulling her tight against him, and she absolutely did not moan in pleasure! She closed her eyes, resolutely ignoring Fred’s grunt of annoyance and Herr Pichler’s cough of embarrassment.

 

“Ah, young love,” Herr Pichler said with a laugh. “Come, Herr Weasley, let us give the lovebirds a moment…”

 

Their footsteps receded and Hermione chanced a look, finding they were alone. She pulled away and glared at George again.

 

“You two annoy me so much!” she declared, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“You see,” George said with a grin, “you’ve been running a little hot and cold lately, Lucy, my darling. I'm getting some very mixed signals from you here…”

 

He gave a cry as she slapped his arm and stalked off.

 

~~~

 

She had been quiet all evening, cooking for Harry and Draco at her flat and eating in near silence. Even Draco had wisely chosen to avoid antagonising her. She was clearly upset, and even though she had invited them both over for dinner, she had gone to her room almost the moment she had finished eating, leaving the two men to debate whether they should leave her be or say something.

 

In the end, they agreed that Harry would be the best one to talk to her, as Draco would probably end up making things worse. After his boyfriend had left, Harry waited quietly outside Hermione's bedroom.

 

He watched her brush her hair, wondering what it had done to offend her. He started to speak several times, but each time subsided, not knowing how to start. He didn’t want to upset her further. He was about to stealthily move away and give her some privacy, when she placed the brush on her dressing table, lifted a hand to her mouth, and gave a gentle sob.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, moving forwards instantly and wrapping her in a hug, “what’s up love? What did they do, and do we need to go break something?”

 

“No,” she muttered, wiping her tears away roughly, “it’s just…”

 

“They’re being annoying?”

 

“I think that was always going to be a given, Harry. It’s worse than that though… Draco was right.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She sighed. “Draco bloody Malfoy was right! The twins are using this business opportunity and ‘fake family’ situation as a way of getting in my knickers!”

 

“They’re not!”

 

“You don’t need to sound so horrified!” she huffed, gently pushing him away and dropping down onto the end of her bed. “I’m very much aware that you warned me about this.”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t really think they would  _ actually _ do it!” said Harry sitting at her dressing table. “How could they think you wouldn’t find out? For that matter, how could they think you wouldn’t be absolutely livid when you did?”

 

“They  _ don’t _ think, do they?” she snapped. “They just… do! They do things, flail around and somehow still land on their feet!”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

She sagged, lying back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I don't know.”

 

“You can't let them get away with this, Hermione. Call it off, before you get hurt!”

 

“I'm already hurt,” she said with a sigh, “but I can't do that to them. It'll destroy their credibility with Herr Pichler, and probably ruin any chance of them expanding into Europe!” She shook her head. “I can't do that to them. I knew what I was getting into, deep down.”

 

“Maybe, but it wasn't supposed to be a trick, was it? It was supposed to be two days, pretend to be a dutiful wife, and done.” Harry sat next to her, taking her hand in his. “Now you're George's wife  _ and _ Fred's girlfriend! You're meeting this businessman, multiple times, having to change your appearance, personality… When will it stop? And that name!”

 

“Ugh, don't remind me,” she moaned, covering her eyes.

 

He hesitated before speaking again.

 

“What is it?” she asked, her skin prickling.

 

“I've had an update, you know?”

 

She looked at him through her fingers, heart thumping painfully. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And?”

 

He sighed and shook his head, his heart breaking as she looked away with a sob. “I'm so sorry, I wish I could give you better news. It looked hopefully for a while. It lasted for two days this time, but…”

 

“When they woke up they had forgotten everything again.” She stood and walked away, wiping her eyes. “You should call it off, Harry, tell your team to come home. Let them live their lives over there in peace. It's not fair to keep doing this, over and over.”

 

“Are you sure, love?

 

She nodded rapidly. “I'll go and visit them when this is all done with. They may not remember who I really am, but at least I can say goodbye, for myself if nothing else.”

 

Harry moved up behind her and enveloped her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. “You're the strongest woman I know, you know that?” he said, his voice choked.

 

She laughed, wiping her eyes and patting him on the arm. “I know, I'm invincible. Now come on, out! I'm supposed to be staying with the twins and I need to get all my stuff organised, make sure they've got a sensible plan for the sleeping arrangements!”

 

“If there's only one bed, turn around and leave!” he murmured into her shoulder.

 

“If they try anything at all tonight, you'll have to get that Obliviator team back as soon as possible, because any witnesses will need the memory of a horrific double homicide removed from their minds!”

 

~~~


	6. Revealing Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst I can't commit to a definite update schedule, I can confirm that clearer plans for this tale are emerging, so the writing is getting easier... Hopefully, this means updates will be fairly regular.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read, follow, and enjoy this story. Your thoughts and comments are always welcome x

“No!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I do not agree!”

 

“Oh, come on!”

 

“Ah me… you have chosen the phrase that is my Achilles Heel! How could I possibly resist the siren song of such beguiling words?”

 

“Alright, you don’t have to be a dick about it, Perce.”

 

“I am not being a ‘dick’, Fred,” Percy said pompously, rolling his eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “You are talking about competing with your twin brother for Hermione’s affections, a time honoured Weasley twin tradition…”

 

“So it’s tradition for twins. Why won’t you help us?” said George.

 

“Because you are doing it wrong!” Percy snapped, slapping a hand on his desk. “There has never been a time when Weasley twins have invoked this rite where the potential mate is not consulted first! It is immoral, for one, foolhardy for another!”

 

“Have you ever known us to  _ not _ choose the risky path?” George said with a snigger, lounging back in his chair. “This is a nice office, by the way, Perce. Moving on up, I see!”

 

“Yes, and as the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation my time is quite precious.”

 

“So help us, and we’ll get out of your hair,” Fred said reasonably.

 

“I told you, I am not willing to help you when your basis for doing this is dishonest!”

 

“We did make an appointment, and we have scheduled at least another hour of your time,” said George.

 

“We checked your diary.”

 

“Your assistant was most helpful.”

 

“Your next appointment actually cancelled…”

 

“Missed his Portkey, so they rescheduled for tomorrow.”

 

“So we asked your assistant--Gloria, lovely girl--to extend  _ this _ meeting for another hour.”

 

“And we’ve got nowhere important to be right now…”

 

“So we can just sit in your office for a whole hour…”

 

“We can... talk.”

 

“What do you say, Perce?”

 

Percy slumped back in his chair, a hand to his forehead. “You can harass and cajole me as much as you like, but I will  _ not _ help you trick a dear family friend!” His voice was rising in volume and he couldn’t stop it; the twins always managed to wind him up. “This is not about ‘having a laugh’, or ‘choosing the risky path’. This is about honesty, integrity!”

 

“Alright, calm down…”

 

“No, I will not calm down, George! Hermione Granger deserves to know the truth! If you both  _ truly _ feel something for her, and this is not just a  _ stupid _ game for the pair of you, then you will talk to her. You will tell her your intentions; no jokes, no tricks, no prevarication!”

 

“Perce…”

 

“The poor woman has been put through the wringer over the last few years, a fact of which you are well aware! She does not need you two buffoons passing her already bruised heart about between you like a Quaffle simply for your own amusement.” Percy stood and headed for the door, holding it open. “If you continue to lie to her I will tell her myself. And then mum and dad. This conversation makes me feel sorry that the poor girl ever caught your eyes! Also, bear in mind that my department effectively controls when and where Mister Pichler’s Portkey leaves…”

 

“Are you threatening us, Percy?” Fred said, his eyes wide.

 

“Yes. Now, get out!”

 

~~~

 

“Hermione,” said Fred, “we need to talk, and we’d like for you to just listen for a moment.”

 

“It’s not easy for us to express our feelings without jokes,” said George, “so bear with us… we might go off on a tangent at times…”

 

“But we will answer any questions you may have, I promise.”

 

“We just have to be completely honest with you so we’re all on the same page, and we can all move forward together…”

 

“Or not, if you don’t like what you hear,” added Fred quickly.

 

“Absolutely!” said George, nodding rapidly.

 

“We like you, a lot.”

 

“We think you noticed, but may have got the wrong impression, and if that's the case we are truly sorry.”

 

Fred’s face was serious as he leant forward. “I know we joke around a lot…”

 

“Almost constantly…” George said with a grin.

 

“Not even aware we’re doing it half the time!”

 

“Much like now…”

 

“Exactly… but we want you to know that this is not a joke…”

 

“We… we like you, Hermione. More than friends.”

 

“But, of course, it’s entirely up to you if you would want us to take this any further!”

 

“If you tell us to back off, we will.”

 

“And if you only want one of us to back off… if, for example, you liked me more than Georgie here because of his butt-grabbing earlier, then I’m sure George would do the honourable thing and step back? Right?”

 

“Really?” George said, glaring at his brother.

 

“What?”

 

“You want to go there, right from the off? Try and poison her against me for a simple mistake?”

 

Fred shrugged. “You grabbed her arse.”

 

“It was an  _ accident _ !”

 

“She was very upset…”

 

“I know!” George cried. “That’s the second time today she looked like she wanted to kill me!”

 

“So it makes more sense to present me as the better option, surely!”

 

“No, it doesn’t! You wait, you’ll have her threatening you all day tomorrow, I’m sure!”

 

“Maybe, but this isn’t getting us any further, is it?”

 

The sound of the front door opening and closing cut George off before he could retort. They both swung around, staring wide-eyed at the woman stood in the kitchen doorway.

 

Hermione frowned at them. “What? I told you I’d come back. I just had to pick up my work robes.” Her eyes flicked to the kitchen table, staring at the point opposite the twins. “Why is there a balloon tied to that chair?”

 

George stammered, looking at the red balloon they had used to represent Hermione. He looked back at her and gave a nervous laugh, gesturing vaguely while Fred cleared his throat. “We should talk,” both men said together.

 

“We should,” she replied quietly, blushing as she saw how nervous they were. “But not yet. I’ll let you and the balloon talk it out first. It sounds like the three of you have some details to work through.”

 

She swept from the room, leaving the twins in stunned silence.

 

~~~

 

_ We like you, Hermione. More than friends… _

 

This late in the evening Diagon Alley was quiet and Hermione, stood on the other side of the twins’ front door, juggling with her robes and handbag as she fished around for the key, had heard what she was sure she should not have. Not yet at least.

 

She wanted to see what the sleeping arrangements were, but she wanted, even more, to hear what was going on in the kitchen. What were they playing at? In the space of a day the twins had gone from asking her to pretend to be George’s wife as a favour, to flirting with her, to--it appeared--competing with each other for her affections in earnest!

 

She wanted to know. No, she  _ needed _ to know what they were planning. She hadn’t heard much beyond those words; she had been too shocked to take it in, to tell the truth. Their argument had shaken her back to her senses. It had been an extremely stressful 24 hours so far, and she hated being on the back foot all the time. At least she had their word, albeit overheard through a door, that they genuinely had feelings for her. The way they were going about showing her though...

 

“I’m too tired for this,” she muttered, shutting her ears to the quiet murmur downstairs and continued upstairs to explore the upper level of their house.

 

Set back and above the shop, it was more of a maisonette than a house or flat. The upper floor was simply laid out, with a central corridor running through the middle of the building, the staircase sitting in the centre of the floor. In front of her as she reached the top of the stairs she could see the large windows that looked out over Diagon Alley. Two doors were set on opposite walls, either side of the window. Behind her were another three doors, one on each wall.

 

The two master bedrooms, each with their own ensuite, were at the front, each one decorated similarly, but with subtle differences. Hermione knew which bedroom was whose from these tiny clues, though she was sure others would struggle. Towards the back of the corridor was another, smaller bedroom. A fair sized workshop--suspiciously larger than the house's footprint should allow-- filled with an impressive collection of gadgets, toys, and other paraphernalia from the shop took up the rearmost room. The last door led into the main bathroom.

 

Quietly Hermione placed her handbag down on the cool blue tiled floor and closed and locked the bathroom door behind her. Sinking down onto the edge of the bath she let out a long sigh.

 

After a moment to gather herself, she scrubbed her hand through her hair and stood to look at herself in the mirror. The potion had started to wear off, leaving her eyes their usual brown, shot through with streaks of blue. She had to remember to talk to the twins about the potion so she knew how to counter it, or when to take another dose. Being ill-prepared did not sit well with her. She tugged at the blonde wig, wincing as it refused to move.

 

“You're going to have to come off,” she said to it, an annoyed twist to her lips, “I need to wash my actual hair before tomorrow.”

 

The wig gave a shudder and came loose, slowly disentangling itself and shrinking slightly. Hermione tossed it on top of her bag and scratched her itchy scalp, feeling her skin tingle at the change in pressure. She grimaced at how knotted her hair was. She looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards!

 

It would be easy enough to change from Hermione to Lucy, she realised, but vice versa would be a different story.

 

An hour later and Hermione felt much better. Her hair was freshly washed and wrapped up a large, fluffy towel, piled up on top of her head. Another towel was wrapped around her as she rinsed the bath out with a gentle  _ Aguamenti _ . The long soak had done wonders for relaxing her, but she knew that she had to speak to the twins before she turned in. No more surprises!

 

Opening the door she found the lights still on downstairs and the sound of a kettle boiling on the stove. Entering the small bedroom at the back she found the stuff she had brought to the shop earlier already there. Rummaging through her suitcase she found her powder blue nightdress and slipped it on. Sitting on the bed she dried and tidied her hair up, pushing it away from her face with a wide black headband.

 

Taking a deep breath she steeled herself to go downstairs when there was a knock at the door.

 

“Come in.”

 

Fred poked his head in as the door opened, a wide grin on his face. “Fancy a hot chocolate?”

 

“Sure,” she said, smiling back at him. As she stood she saw his eyes widen and his cheeks flush, before he pulled his head back and shut the door again.

 

“Okay,” he called from the other side, his voice a little strained, “um… see you downstairs in a bit then.”

 

Hermione’s own cheeks burned as she looked down. “No, this nightdress won't do,” she muttered, pulling it higher to cover her breasts a little more. It didn't help that the peaks of her nipples were clearly visible through the thin material. When her chest was decently covered the lace trimmed hem had risen until it hovered around the tops of her thighs. “Not at all…”

 

Delving back into her bag, she dragged her dressing gown out and pulled it on, cinching the belt around her waist. It wasn't exactly her most attractive nightwear--it was old, faded yellow, marked with makeup and the occasional coffee stain--but it was knee length and thick enough to keep everything under wraps. A quick twirl in the floor length mirror on the back of the door confirmed that modesty would be preserved.

 

“That's better.”

 

Pulling on a pair of fluffy pink slipper boots, she left the room, finding the corridor empty. She padded along the corridor and headed downstairs to the kitchen, hearing the tinkle of drinks being stirred.

 

George was sat on the kitchen counter, nibbling on one of his fingernails, as Fred stood by the stove stirring three mugs of hot chocolate. Unseen for the moment, Hermione watched him add some whipped cream and sprinkles to one of them.

 

“I hope that one's for me,” she said, noting with satisfaction how they both started.

 

“Merlin, Hermione!”

 

“You trying to give us a heart attack?”

 

“After what you two put me through over the last day?” she said, with an eyebrow raised. “A little bit of a shock is the least you deserve.”

 

“Fair enough,” Fred said with a grin.

 

The three of them sat at the table and Fred slid the special mug towards her.

 

“Nice bath?” George asked.

 

“Yes, thank you. The water's nice and soft, which is surprising for London. The water in my flat is very hard. Makes cleaning the bathroom a bit of a nightmare, to be honest, even with magic.”

 

“Ah,” exclaimed Fred happily, “we'll have to give her one of our water softeners, George!”

 

“That's a good idea, Fred! Invaluable for a lady in the big city.”

 

“Makes the water feel like a mountain stream!”

 

“We'll make you one and fit it for you if you'd like?”

 

Hermione smiled. “That sounds lovely.” She dipped a finger into the cream and popped it into her mouth. “Any reason I'm being treated to free gadgets and a fancy hot chocolate, boys?”

 

“Yes,” George said.

 

“You deserve it,” Fred added.

 

“We…” George stopped, swallowing audibly. “We're really sorry about today.”

 

“Which part?” she replied, trying to keep her tone even.

 

“The name…”

 

“The mess up with Pichler…”

 

“Not talking to you properly…”

 

“Being relentless screwups…”

 

“Alright, alright,” she said, waving her hand at them. “Yes, you screwed up, but no one died, and it was nothing I couldn't handle.”

 

“How are things going?” Fred asked tentatively. “Over there, I mean.”

 

She took a moment to sip the chocolate, staring intently at the rainbow coloured sprinkles until she had mastered herself. “I’ve told Harry to bring his team home.”

 

The twins shared a look across the table. “We’re really sorry, love,” George said quietly, both of them reaching out at the same time and resting a hand in front of her.

 

“So am I,” she whispered, brushing a tear away before taking their hands in each of hers, “but they seem to like Australia, and Thorneside seems like a nice enough suburb. They don’t need a team of Obliviators poking and prodding them on a daily basis; they need to just be Monica and Wendell Wilkins of Lucy Street. They're happy over there.” She gave their hands a squeeze before picking up her mug again. “And I am just an English tourist to them, someone whom they first met on the beach at Brisbane. We’re friends in a way, what with them being two of the only British expats living locally, and me being a regular visitor. I’ll still have that when I go over there, at least.”

 

The room blurred and she blinked away her tears, rapidly putting the mug down again. The twins moved, each dropping to their knees at her side and wrapping their arms around her, heads resting on her shoulders. She gave a small laugh and hugged them back, kissing each of them on the forehead before pushing them away.

 

“Alright, enough mushy stuff,” she muttered roughly. “We need to talk about what’s happening tomorrow. No more seat of the pants flying, no more surprises! I have questions.”

 

“Okay,” Fred nodded.

 

“Just…” George said. “About the balloon…”

 

She held up a hand. “I don’t need to know. I’m not sure I want to know, not yet. Let’s just get through tomorrow, get the deal done and send Herr Pichler on his way. Then, maybe, we can talk about balloons.”

 

~~~


End file.
